


First Impressions

by babybrotherdean



Series: Altarboy!Dean 'verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (except he doesn't know they're brothers), Age Difference, Age Swap, Altarboy!Dean, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Dean is just a smol, Fluff, M/M, who's meeting his scary boy king brother for the first time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 06:19:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5037148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrotherdean/pseuds/babybrotherdean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The man’s eyes are hazel up close, but they’re oddly dynamic. He tilts his head, and for a moment, they shine golden- it’s gone a moment later, and Dean passes it off as a trick of the light.  “Did they leave you out here all alone, Dean?”</p><p>-</p><p>In which Dean's a young altar boy meeting his demon brother for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> This AU came to be as a result of Crowley's comment in 11x02 about Dean having been a "scrumptious altar boy," and then seeing [this photoset](http://babypumpkindean.tumblr.com/post/131505758628/giveupwest-after-watching-bbc-sex-and-the). A reversal of that particular scenario, but oh, well.
> 
> I might delve into the background of this a bit more later, but here we go!

It’s not often they get visitors this early- there’s still a few hours before Mass is supposed to begin, and the sun isn’t even all the way up yet- so Dean’s alone as he walks through the nave, between the pews, making sure everything is in order. Bibles line the backs of each pew, and he takes the time to straighten some of the ones that sit off-centre.

It’s always quiet before the other members of the church start their days, and it’s part of why Dean’s gotten into the habit of waking up so early. He doesn’t get in trouble for leaving his quarters as long as he doesn’t cause any trouble, and after living here most of his life, he’s gotten very good at keeping his trouble-making a secret. It’s a matter of survival, and survival is the thing he knows best.

The church is open all hours for those seeking guidance, sanctuary, or peace, so it isn’t entirely a surprise when one of the huge oak doors is pushed open- he barely glances up, puts on a smile like he’s supposed to, ready to go back to work. Most people who come here alone don’t like to be disturbed, and certainly not by a boy like him. If they want advice, they’ll seek out Father Kubrick, but he’s still asleep.

What stops Dean short of turning away, though, is actually catching sight of the man who’s just stepped inside. 

He’s tall- looks like he fills it out, too, under jeans and a leather jacket. Brown hair to his ears, an easy sort of grace about him. He might be anywhere in his late teens to his mid-twenties from this distance- but what really catches Dean’s attention is the warm sort of pulse that travels through him when their eyes meet.

The man smiles wide, and he’s got _dimples_ , and Dean’s mouth is hanging open a little bit but he can’t make it close. He feels like he’s been pinned in place, even as the man starts walking closer, and Dean has work to do, and he should sweep the aisle, but he can’t even make himself _move_ right now.

“Good morning.” But now the man is close enough to crouch down in front of him, bringing him down to the point where he’s shorter than Dean. Dean’s glad, because he thinks it’d have hurt his neck to look all the way up to where the man’s face normally is. 

The man’s eyes are hazel up close, but they’re oddly dynamic. He tilts his head, and for a moment, they shine golden- it’s gone a moment later, and Dean passes it off as a trick of the light. “Did they leave you out here all alone, Dean?”

The man knows Dean’s name, and that should be worrying- but Dean feels inexplicably safe with him. There’s still that warmth in his chest, and it seems to have only increased with his proximity. It’s something he doesn’t want to think about too hard, so he just nods slowly, cautiously. “Everyone’s still asleep.” 

“Most people are, at this hour.” Another smile. “It’s nice, though, getting some time alone. It must get busy around here.”

Dean nods, hesitates for a moment before speaking again. “What’s your name?” It feels like something he should already know, like it’s resting on the tip of his tongue, just out of reach. 

Maybe the man understands, because he smiles, reaches up to brush his fingers through Dean’s hair. “Different people call me different things. You can call me Sam, though.”

 _Sam_. It feels right, and something in Dean settles, satisfied with the knowledge. 

“Do you know me?” The question slips out unbidden, and Dean bites his lip. “Or- do I know you?”

“It sure feels that way, doesn’t it?” Sam shifts, then, moving out of his crouch to sit down against the end of a pew. “I know you. I think you might know me, too, but not in your memory. It’s a little complicated.” 

He hums, apparently thoughtful, and Dean takes the chance to glance around, makes sure they’re still alone before sitting down beside him. He doesn’t want to get in trouble for taking a break like this.

“Do you remember how you came to the church, Dean?”

Dean frowns a little, brow furrowing in concentration. He’s almost nine years old, and he’s lived here as long as he can remember. He knows it isn’t normal, and that most of the other altar boys and girls have parents to go home to, and stay here out of choice rather than necessity.

“I was just little.”

“Yeah. I know.” 

Sam smiles again, but it looks sad this time. Dean doesn’t like the way it looks on him, so he shuffles a little closer, hesitates before taking Sam’s hand in both of his, trying to offer some sort of comfort. “Father Kubrick says my dad left me here to keep me safe.”

“Oh?” Sam seems to relax, glances over at Dean. There’s that flash of gold again, and Dean finds himself straining to see more. “Safe from what?”

“I don’t know.” 

It’s far from the only question Father Kubrick refuses to answer. The man’s far from an open book, and he seems to take a particular liking in making sure Dean stays in the dark about these things.

Sam just hums at that, settles back against the wooden pew again. They’re both quiet for a few minutes, and Dean feels like he should be asking questions- trying to figure out who Sam is, or why he’s here, or how he knows Dean- but this is the most comfortable he’s felt in a long while, even if it’s in the company of someone who should be a perfect stranger.

It’s Sam who ultimately breaks the silence, turning to look at Dean again. Dean realizes he’s still holding Sam’s hand, and that Sam’s fingers have curled gently around his, holding them close. It feels kind of nice. “Do you think we could be friends, Dean? If I can keep visiting you? It must get lonely, spending all your time here.”

And it does, too- Dean doesn’t have a whole lot of people in his life, and even fewer of them are people he could ever imagine considering friends. Most of the other children here have their own friends, and Dean often finds himself alone or being forced to spend time with Father Kubrick, learning to do his duties. He’s never given it much thought.

But now, with Sam’s gentle smile and the big, warm hand he’s got clasped in both of his- Dean feels an ache, some kind of deep-seated need for this. For someone who’s his and his alone.

“You really wanna be friends?”

“I really do.” Sam’s smile grows. “You get up this early every morning?” Dean nods eagerly, and he continues. “Then I could come visit, and we could spend time together. It’ll be fun, right?”

“Okay.” Dean’s smiling now, too, all but bouncing with excitement. He’s already attached to Sam, and he’s not sure why, but he doesn’t especially care. 

“Perfect.” Sam glances up, then, towards the altar- the same direction of the door that leads to the back rooms of the church, where the other quarters are. “People are starting to wake up. I should get going, but I’ll be here tomorrow, same time.” 

He starts to get up, but pauses, turns to meet Dean’s eyes. He looks serious, and Dean makes himself focus. “Don’t tell anyone I was here, okay? Let’s just keep this between us. I don’t know if the other people here would like us being friends, Dean.”

Dean furrows his brow, but all things considered, he thinks Sam’s probably right. “’Kay.” He uses the hand he’s still got captive to link one of his pinkies with Sam’s. “Pinkie swear.”

“Good.” Sam huffs out a laugh, and then he’s standing properly, and Dean’s reminded all over again of how big he really is. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay, Dean? I bet you’ve got a lot of questions, and I’ll try to answer some of them.”

Sam hasn’t been here very long at all, even though Dean feels like so much has changed since he arrived, and the idea that he’s already leaving has him frowning, reluctant to let him go. “You’re really coming back?”

“I promise.” Sam’s free hand brushes through Dean’s hair again, and Dean leans into it this time, making a soft, happy sound at the touch. “Stay safe. I’ll miss you.”

And then, between one blink and the next, it’s like Sam was never there at all. The church doors are still closed, and Dean still feels the warmth of the man’s hand where it’d rested in his- but in its place is a small amulet, some kind of bronze figurine on a black cord. It’s heavy where it rests in his palm, and when Dean pulls it on over his head, it sits warm and comfortable under his tunic and over his heart.

He doesn’t feel quite so lonely that day, and whenever he gets a moment alone, he finds himself smiling and touching the figure, already looking forward to waking up tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! :D


End file.
